


The Taste Of Metal And Oil

by ginkyou



Category: Historical Criminals RPF
Genre: Don't Try This At Home, Gun Kink, Gunplay, M/M, i know that that's not how the safety on a gun works but shh it's more dramatic this way, that's........ really all there is to this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 02:55:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8186720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginkyou/pseuds/ginkyou
Summary: In which Nathan, much to his own surprise, discovers he has a gun kink.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Much love to [nasobem](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Nasobem), who sent me a short ficlet/prompt/idea and allowed me to base this fic on it. You can thank and/or blame her for this.  
> Unbeta'd as always.

 

Richard didn't enjoy having to clean his guns. The oil tended to get everywhere and his hands smelled of it for what felt like days afterward. Still, it was something that had to be done occasionally, and as such sometimes there simply was no way to avoid it.

The knock at the door came just after he had started putting the second gun back together.

“Sorry for just barging in,” a voice said behind him, hurried and nervous. “I forgot my notes at the library, can I borrow yours?” Richard didn't have to turn around to know who it was. He had heard many people call young Leopold a genius, but all Richard had seen him be so far was a small, awkward boy who quite obviously thought way too highly of himself. At the same time, Leopold was intellectually ahead of all his peers – Richard included – and it was nice to know someone who was in the same scholarly ballpark as Richard, and as such Richard felt almost obligated to like him.

“Go ahead,” Richard said. He pointed at a pile of papers on his desk, weighed down by a gun he had already finished cleaning.

“Thank you,” Nathan said and leaned over Richard's shoulder. “I can't believe I--” Nathan fell silent. Dick looked up. “What is that.”

“A gun,” Richard said and nonchalantly cocked and de-cocked the hammer.

“That is not a hunting gun and I've never seen you at any shooting range. What the hell do you own guns for?” Richard, inspecting the gun for any smudges he might have left in the progress of putting it back together, scoffed.

“What do you think I own them for?” It took a few moments for the gears in Nathan's head to click into place. He tried to laugh as not to betray the way his blood had turned to ice, but his throat had suddenly become too dry.

“God, I... I always thought you were joking.”

“I never joke about these sort of things,” Richard said and picked a stray hair off the barrel, weighing the gun in his hand, visibly satisfied with his cleaning efforts.

“As a matter of fact, yes, you do, quite frequently.” Richard looked up at Nathan. There was a glint in Richard's eyes that made Nathan wish he had gone to literally any other member of the faculty to get his notes replaced. He even would have preferred getting them from the weird guy who sometimes sat behind him and loudly ate apples during lectures, core and all.

“So you're not scared?”

“Of course not, you'd never--” Richard aimed the gun at Nathan, who immediately broke off and raised his hands, taking an abrupt step away from Richard.

“How about now?” Richard asked and grinned, baring slightly crooked teeth.

“Please tell me it's not loaded,” Nathan said and swallowed uncomfortably. Richard got up and moved closer to Nathan. Nathan winced as the gun touched his chest, the muzzle pressing against his vest. Time seemed to slow down to a crawl as Richard slowly put his finger on the trigger. Nathan's heart raced.

“I asked you a question,” Richard said, his voice low and dangerous. Nathan felt his breath hitch in his chest. He wanted to give in, open his mouth and tell Richard that he was scared just so that he would stop pointing the damn gun at him, but somewhere between his brain and his mouth the adrenaline coursing through his veins changed his words.

“No,” he said, taking a deep breath. He straightened his spine, pressing his chest against the gun. Richard's hand gave way ever so slightly. His eyelashes fluttered as he glanced down at the gun, then back up at Nathan. Nathan's eyes were wide, his pupils big and dark. “You wouldn't dare.”

Richard's expression hardened. In one swift move, he slid the gun up and pressed it against the underside of Nathan's chin, releasing the safety. Nathan's muscles went limp at the feeling, his eyes shutting and his head gliding back as the gun pressed against his skin. Richard took a few steps forward, coaxing Nathan forwards with the gun, careful not to make the boy trip over his own feet. Nathan's back hit the wall and he immediately let himself lean against it, chin still pushed up by the gun.

Richard didn't quite know what to make of Nathan's reaction. It felt paradoxical, the way Nathan offered up his throat to him like a dog showing its submission, yet at the same time pressing into the gun with a neediness bordering on feverish. Something about the way Nathan's mouth hung open ever so slightly made him look expectant, like he was waiting for something very specific to happen. Richard wasn't sure if he had quite figured out yet what Nathan was waiting for.

Careful not to move too quickly and ready to pull back at any time, Richard applied more pressure to the gun. Nathan whimpered as the gun dug into his throat, the metal cold against his flushed skin. Nathan's cheeks were red and his breathing quick. Richard had the feeling that if he had touched him, he could have felt Nathan's body tremble.

The more the muzzle pressed against Nathan, pushing his head against the wall, the faster his hips moved against Richard, a quick, desperate movement barely held back by intellect. Richard could see the strain on Nathan's face as Nathan tried and increasingly failed to restrain himself. Even with the thrust of Nathan's hips being restrained and subtle, Richard could feel the growing hardness between Nathan's legs.

Nathan's eyes were big, somewhere between excited and scared. He blinked a few times and broke eye contact, his focus drifting away from Richard. Richard licked his lips and smiled. Gaze fixed on Nathan's face, he put a hand on Nathan's hip, fingertips sliding under the waistband of Nathan's slacks. Nathan bucked his hips involuntarily and moaned. Richard, in return, pressed the gun to Nathan's throat and Nathan's motions intensified, trying hard to increase the friction between them.

Richard let his hand glide away from Nathan's hips, moving it upwards while he increased the pressure he was applying with his gun. Nathan whined, a needy, desperate sound that pleased Richard immensely. His hand having reached Nathan's waist, fingers wrapping around it, Richard removed the gun from Nathan's throat. The muzzle left a white mark on his skin that quickly turned red as blood rushed back into the area. Nathan's breathing, formerly quick and flat, deepened immediately. He let his body lean forwards and rest against Richard, humming a happy tone against Richard's chest.

“Jesus,” Richard breathed and softly tapped the gun against Nathan's cheek. “You're _filthy_.” Nathan's eyelashes brushed against Richard's skin as he blinked. Richard pressed Nathan's shoulder against the wall to straighten him out again, and Nathan, face flushed, kept his gaze averted.

Richard reached for Nathan's jaw. His skin was so hot Richard nearly flinched when his hand touched it. With steady fingers, he turned Nathan's head to face him again. When Nathan finally looked up at him, his eyes looked embarrassed and apologetic.

Not letting Nathan break eye contact, Richard raised his hand and slowly put the gun's muzzle on Nathan's lips.

Nathan's mouth twitched as the cold metal touched it. His breath, nervous and shaky, fogged up the barrel. Richard could see the struggle in Nathan's eyes, the fight between wanting to resist just to show him and wanting nothing more than to give in. Richard knew that he could easily order Nathan to open his mouth – he knew that in this moment, Nathan would have done _anything_ he told him to do – but he also knew that if he spoke now, his words would shake and stumble over each other, and he didn't want to ruin his moment by trying to stammer out an instruction. He let his eyes and hand do what his voice could not, holding eye contact and resting his fingers firmly enough on Nathan's jaw to hold him in place, but not strongly enough to make him unable to open his mouth.

The gun pushed against Nathan's half-opened mouth. The pressure behind it was delicate and careful, more of a question than a command. Nathan's lips looked soft under the metal, reddened by the muzzle pressing against them. With a deep breath and a shudder that flowed through all of his body, Nathan opened his mouth.

The gun felt like ice against the warmth of his tongue. Nathan gasped as the barrel slid into his mouth its taste, a disgusting mixture of tastes both metallic and oily, almost making him gag. His hands dug into Richards shirt. Richard patiently waited for his grip to relax.

Richard slowly placed a finger on the hammer, waiting until Nathan had relaxed enough against the gun to open his eyes. He could feel Nathan tremble under his fingers now, his body otherwise still, not even daring to move his hips anymore. It was quiet around them, only the sound of their breath remaining, Nathan's muffled by the gun. Then, as Richard cocked the gun, a click that seemed to fill the entire room. Nathan watched his movements carefully, holding the gun in his mouth with the concentration and devotion of a man receiving the Eucharist for the very first time.

Richard's index finger, formerly having rested on the trigger guard, moved to the trigger. Nathan whimpered around the gun. His lips closed tightly around the barrel. Time had stopped for them, the rest of the world had disappeared. Nathan, eyes half closed, held Richard's stare, the movements of their chests almost synchronized. The energy between them was entirely silent but filled with crackling intent. The taste of gun oil filled Nathan's mouth and for what seemed like the first time in his life, his mind was blank.

Careful to put his finger back on the trigger guard, Richard let the gun slide out of Nathan's mouth. Nathan followed his movement, leaning forwards, mouth open and eyebrows furrowing in an almost childlike expression of relief and disappointment.

Richard made a warning noise and pressed the gun, still slick with spit, against Nathan's temple. Nathan shuddered at the feeling. For a few breathless moments, he leaned into the gun, feeling nothing but the way the metal felt against his skin. Richard reveled in the sight, in the way Nathan's cheeks were positively glowing with heat, the way his chest expanded and contracted with every shaky breath, the way his pupils made his unfocused eyes look closer to black than to gray. Still pressing the muzzle against Nathan's temple, Richard leaned down and kissed Nathan. Nathan gratefully, desperately, returned the kiss, teeth scraping against Richard's lips and hands gripping at Richard's shirt. His mouth, desperate and wanting, tasted of metal.

Nathan's hips started their motions against Richard again and Richard in reply shoved his knee between Nathan's legs. Nathan all but moaned into Richard's mouth, Richard taking the opportunity to dart his tongue between Nathan's lips, tasting more oil in Nathan's mouth. It only took a few thrusts of Richard's hips against Nathan's for Nathan's whines to become loud and desperate and his movements erratic. He came with the gun still pressed against his head, hips bucking, moaning a garbled sound into Richard's mouth. Richard pressed his hips against Nathan's as Nathan let the orgasm flow through him, body tense against Richard's.

Nathan slumped against the wall, breathless. “I'm,” he began but interrupted himself, grimacing. He wiped his mouth with his hand. The residue looked gray and oily. He made a disgusted sound. “I'm still going to need your notes though.” Richard snorted and gave Nathan's shoulder a playful punch. Nathan wiped his mouth again and laughed, feeling exhausted but warm inside.

 

 


End file.
